I'm pregnant, I have coronavirus and I'm shocked at how badly the UK has handled it

I can't imagine how anybody else would be able to navigate the labyrinth of bureaucracy I had to. I'm sick, asthmatic and emotionally drained. Nobody knows what they're doing

Late last week, I developed a sore throat. I have three beautiful germ-carrying children so this did not really occur to me as anything to be troubled by. I had heard about the coronavirus and was following events as close as anyone else, but the main thing I had heard about was a cough and fever. This being neither of those, I was not overly concerned.

Saturday during the day I attended an event on Scottish independence with around 60 other people. That night, my throat was sore and I struggled to sleep for the pain. Tuesday I developed a cough. Wednesday I woke gasping for air; the coughing left me unable to catch breath and tears streamed down my face involuntarily while my horrified husband looked on. He was very concerned for me, not least because I am 34 weeks’ pregnant. I am also asthmatic.

I phoned the GP exactly at 8.30am when they open and was told to expect a phone consultation. When the doctor heard me coughing, she too was concerned and scheduled me in for an appointment with the advanced nurse practitioner that afternoon. Walking into the GP was a surreal experience as I coughed and coughed past signs that said if you had a cough and had been to a list of specific countries you were not to enter. The touchscreens had been turned off and we were to check in via the desk. I could see the seats had been moved further apart than usual.

I took my coughing self and proceeded to the area I had been directed to while endeavoring to stay as far away from the other people as possible. I am haunted by the recollection of a woman sitting in chair with an oxygen tank.

I was called very promptly and went in. I coughed and coughed throughout the appointment and was taken aback that the nurse did not have any protective gear on. She went to confer with the GP about whether they should prescribe steroids, but they decided against it due to my pregnancy and I was discharged with advice to phone back if I got worse. I explicitly asked if I should self-isolate and I was told that would not be necessary as I had not been to an affected country.

Thursday was very bad. I could barely sit up, and speaking was near-impossible for coughing fits. The coughing fits were leaving me feeling faint and I was seeing stars with almost each one. My arms felt too heavy and my head felt too light.

I watched with rapt attention as the prime minister held a press conference with medical and science professionals and it was announced they would stop testing people based only on travel; they would start testing people based on symptoms. Friday I woke up gasping for air after a night having barely slept for coughing. I phoned the GP back at 8.30am explaining I had been instructed to do so if I was worse and I absolutely felt worse. I was told that they could no longer see patients with a cough and I needed to phone 111.

I promptly phoned 111. After 90 — yes, 90 — minutes on hold, I was put through to someone for assessment. They informed me that I needed to phone my GP. I reiterated that I am heavily pregnant and asthmatic, and it was the GP office who told me I needed to phone 111. The person I was speaking with curtly informed me I could not possibly have coronavirus as I had not been to any of the affected countries, and my GP had a Duty Of Care. The last three words were said in quite clipped tones.

I phoned the GP back and explained what had transpired, making sure to use the Duty Of Care line. The receptionist replied, ’‘Right, of course,” in a flustered manner and told me they would have a GP phone me back. The GP phoned me and she quickly said she believed I had the coronavirus and she would be immediately referring me for testing to the Health Board. The Health Board, she assured me, would be in touch shortly to arrange the testing.

Only I never heard from them.

Eventually, we phoned the Health Board ourselves. Amid coughing fits I explained that I am a pregnant asthmatic, I have been referred for testing by my GP but no one has contacted me, it’s getting late into the day and could someone explain what the delay was all about? I was told someone would phone me back.

Later, I received a phone call from the Health Board Protection Officer apologizing for the delay explaining they had been very busy. They then told me that after a big meeting earlier in the day it had been decided that they would no longer be testing at a community level and would only be testing upon hospitalization. I reiterated that I was far along in my pregnancy, ill and asthmatic. They said those are the new guidelines, and that’s it. I hung up, upset and unsure.

My phone then rang again and it was a GP from my local practice. He proceeded into a speech about changing guidelines and how I could no longer be tested; I cut him off, explaining that I had already heard all of this from the Health Board Protection Officer when they phoned earlier — so did he have anything new to tell me? He said yes, they wanted to see me with enhanced measures in place. Could I be at a specific door at twenty to six? I replied, “Of course.”

I arrived promptly and this new GP ushered me into a room along a deserted corridor. He was in full protective clothing. We discussed, in between coughing fits, my symptoms. He said it was very clear I had coronavirus. His official diagnosis was Covid-19. I asked if he could put that into writing as my husband was due to travel internationally for work in a matter of days, and he did so.

My husband and I decided the most ethical thing to do would be to inform our children’s school. We were not told by the doctor or official guidelines that this was necessary. The official guidelines at that point only stated the person with symptoms should self-isolate for seven days — but I felt it would be socially responsible to do so.

I sent an email to the school, attaching my doctor’s note with diagnosis of Covid-19. I stated our intent to keep our children home for the seven-day self-isolation period as well, as an added precaution. The school, which is a private institution, issued a general statement saying a parent had been diagnosed with Covid-19 and as a precaution they were closing the school for seven days. I was delighted; I’d been worried my children would be singled out by the other kids, but this way our identities were spared.

Needless to say, I underestimated the power of the modern-day WhatsApp witch hunt. Within hours, anxiety-ridden insistent parents converged with such aggression that I ended up outing myself anyway. How our little school community moves on from this after I recover from this virus is anyone’s guess.

In conclusion, I am physically, mentally and emotionally exhausted. I feel that so much of this could have been simplified. If our government was quicker to issue guidelines, I may never have set foot in the GP’s surgery on Wednesday at all, where I likely spread the virus to others, including the vulnerable woman I cannot stop thinking about.

I cannot fathom how someone with a less confident disposition, or a less confident grasp of the English language, could have possibly managed to traverse the labyrinth of bureaucracy I had to navigate through on Friday. I think Hercules himself would have struggled. And all of us should be worried about that.